Maisha
by ZoZo1770
Summary: Snape's death… or was it? Could there be a way to prevent it… phoenix tears, perhaps? Oneshot based on the DH movie – Part 2.


Snape's death… or was it? Could there be a way to prevent it… phoenix tears, perhaps? Oneshot based on the DH movie – Part 2.

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><p>Harry listened intently as he heard Voldemort's cold, high voice on the other side of the window. It was nearly impossible for him to see anything through the dirty, translucent glass of the boathouse, but he could just make out Snape's pale slender form, rooted to the spot, as Voldemort circled him, twirling the Elder Wand in his marble-like hands. Harry felt his heart beating faster and faster with every passing second. Something was going to happen, he could feel it.<p>

'You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus…' Voldemort said calmly, 'but only _I _can live… forever.'

'My Lord –' Harry heard Snape protest, but he was cut off. A moment's pause, then he saw Snape stumble and collapse against the window. Had Voldemort killed him? If so, with what? There had been no flash of green light, no _Avada Kedavra_. Surely he wasn't dead? No… he wasn't. Harry could see him backing up against the window, although he had nowhere to go.

'Nagini,' purred Voldemort, '_kill._'

All of a sudden, Harry saw Nagini lunge at Snape's throat, piercing his flesh, knocking him backwards even further and spattering blood against the window. Hiss. Lunge. Another attack. A cry of pain. Then it repeated. Twice, three times, four, five. Pounce. A scream. Six. Another hiss. Another harsh thud against the window. Seven.

Then it stopped. Harry heard Voldemort hiss, then he and Nagini disapparated. He stood up, shocked at what he had just seen. It had been so sudden, and so… _brutal_. Walking towards the door of the boathouse, he heard Hermione whisper his name.

'Harry!' She breathed, but Harry took no notice. Then he stopped outside the door, suddenly hesitant. What would he find in there? What if Voldemort was waiting for him to enter, and had only pretended to leave? No... why would he? Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, Harry turned the handle and entered the room. Glancing around, he saw Snape lying by the window. He did not seem to have noticed Harry as he hurried towards him, but instead was staring straight ahead, his breathing shallow and blood pouring from the wounds in his neck.

He did not know what had compelled him to approach the man. He had _hated_ him all his life; he was the reason his parents were dead. Yet even he could not bring himself to just leave him. Harry knelt beside him, using his hand to try and staunch Snape's wounds. It was then that Snape slowly looked at Harry, his cold, black eyes boring into Harry's green ones, just as they had done many times before. Except, this time, Snape did not look at Harry with hatred and malevolence. No, this was different. He looked so tired, so _defeated_… so troubled. His eyes had lost the usual cunning glint. Harry had never seen him like this before. He half-expected him so suddenly deduct twenty points from Gryffindor for being a nosy, annoying swine – just like his father, Snape would say, and to leave him alone to die in peace.

'Take them…' Snape whispered beseechingly to Harry, gesturing to his face, 'take them… please…'

Harry started to wonder what Snape was motioning to when he saw tears fall from his eyes and cascade down his cheek, his face creasing in anguish. Snape was crying! But why did he want him to take his _tears_?

'Give me something,' said Harry, looking at Hermione, who was standing beside Ron behind him, looking on in shock, 'quickly. A flask, anything!'

Hermione rummaged around in her purple beaded bag, a second later pulling out a small bottle and hurriedly handing it to Harry, who raised it to Snape's cheek to collect his tears.

'Take them to the pensieve,' Snape breathed, when Harry lowered the bottle again. Harry looked at them in wonder… they were _memories_. But why would Snape want him to look at his memories? The last time he looked into Snape's mind, he banished him from his office, ending his Occlumency lessons.

'Look at me…' Snape murmured.

Harry turned his head and gazed into Snape's eyes, which were filled with sadness. No, it was more than sadness; it was deep, intense pain, heartbreaking torment. Yet it was something else, too… Snape almost seemed to be studying him for a second, a funny look of both sadness and admiration written on his face. Harry thought he caught a glimmer of a smile on Snape's lips, but then it was gone.

'You have your mother's eyes.'

Whatever Harry was expecting, it certainly was not that. Snape was comparing Harry to his _mother_? Not his father? Something was wrong, he didn't understand. Snape had been so _gentle_ with him. Maybe it was just because he did not have enough energy to treat him like he usually did… or maybe, just maybe, he truly was letting his guard drop around Harry for the very first time… and the last. For some strange reason, all the other times he had been told that he had his mother's eyes didn't matter anymore. To Harry, it felt different coming from Snape rather than Sirius or Remus. It sounded more… meaningful.

Suddenly, Harry's thoughts were broken when he heard a flutter of wings behind him. Whipping around, he was shocked by what he saw. A magnificent, swan-sized bird with scarlet and gold feathers and a brilliant tail, as long as a peacock's, glided in through the open door. Fawkes!

'Blimey!' exclaimed Ron, while Hermione gasped. Harry said nothing, but watched in shock as Fawkes circled the room once before landing on Snape's chest, which was rising and falling rapidly as what little life he had left drained slowly out of him. The four of them watched as Fawkes gently laid his head on Snape's neck, pearly tears falling from his large brown eyes, down his glossy feathers where they dropped onto Snape's injuries, which were healing visibly. After a few moments, the only thing left was a patch of tears where the blood had been, and Snape's skin looked as though he had not been attacked in the first place.

The trio looked on as Snape's eyes widened with surprise. He gently stroked Fawkes's feathers before getting up, using his wand to clean the blood off of his robes.

'Professor…' Harry said quietly, standing up and looking just as shocked as Snape was.

Snape studied him thoughtfully. 'Harry,' he replied. _Harry_? Not 'Potter'?

'I… I don't understand…' whispered Hermione, looking from Snape to Fawkes, who was now hovering above them.

'Fawkes aids those who are loyal to Dumbledore,' said Snape simply.

'But… but you killed him!' cried Ron. 'How could you be loyal to him if you –'

'Ron!' said Hermione.

'Thank you, Miss Granger. Mr Weasley, I understand where you're coming from,' said Snape calmly. 'You have a lot to learn, all of you. You'll find the answers to your questions in there.' He pointed the vial of memories Harry was holding. 'However, I would appreciate it if you kept them to yourselves.'

'Why can't you just explain to us now?' Ron argued.

All of a sudden, Harry heard a terrible hissing noise and a ringing filled his ears, startling him. Leaning against the wall for support, he looked around at the others. It seemed as though they had heard it too. Hermione was kneeling down, covering her ears; Ron was pacing up and down, seemingly trying to distract himself from the voice of Lord Voldemort that now invaded his head, a look of terror on his face. Snape froze, his eyes closed, his face whiter than it was already.

'You have fought valiantly… but in _vain_,' hissed Voldemort. 'I do not wish this… every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity… Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonour. Join me in the Forbidden Forest… and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.' His voice seemed to carry on even after he'd stopped speaking.

A great silence followed. Finally, clearing his throat, Snape answered Ron's question. 'I would rather you view the memories… it will make the situation more… believable.' His voice shook a little.

'Well, then,' murmured Harry awkwardly, 'shall we – er – get back to the castle… or, what's left of it, anyway. We need to see these memories.'

Snape nodded, leading them out of the boathouse. He had behaved… well, differently to what Harry had expected. He had been patient with Ron, he hadn't been unkind towards Hermione… it seemed that the near-death experience had perhaps softened him up a little. Maybe… maybe he wasn't so bad, after all.

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><p>Thanks for reading! This is just a oneshot, just to make things clear, but I've posted a sequel oneshot called Reflection. Please review!<p> 


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